The Train

Ten pm saw us loaded on the bus heading for Hanoi train station.  We boarded our train and Lance and I ended up sharing a tiny 4 berth cabin with 2 beautiful young Danish girls. Lance's eyes lit up. We loaded our stuff in and Lance lay down on the bottom bunk, I went off to see the others in our group and as I left the girls jumped into the one bunk together, every man's dream.  And Lance was sound asleep. 

My biggest worry about this trip was the toilet. As I write this we are 9 hours into the journey. The toilet was grotty but do-able. I made sure I didn't have a beer so I wouldn't need to get up in the night.  However my ageing bladder had different ideas and at some ungodly hour I visited the happy house. OMG, the toilet was full of wee and water, nearly to the top, I gave it a flush but it rose further!  Nothing for it but a careful hover to see if I could fill it some more.  Picture this, me hovering, the train rocking along and the toilet sloshing with the rhythm of the train, slopping onto the floor. 

When I  returned to my cabin I vowed that not a drop of liquid would pass my lips until I got off the train. Then, horrors of horrors I thought "what if I have the trots!"  After all I had been eating street food. I worried, slept ,worried and slept and at 7am I felt the need for a wee. I decided I would walk the length of the train to find another toilet, even a squatter. Although I did think that with the rocking of the train I may just tip over. Never fear, Lance had been to the toilet and all was back too normal. My horror was over. 

I am still sitting on my bunk on the train as I type this, we are zooming through the countryside, very lush but dry and dusty.